Mothers Day

And very good it was too. First class brunch - haven’t seen The Yoga Mama eat so much in ages. TSM, Strider and I then went off to Chawton to see Jane Austen’s House - well one of them - in Hampshire. All rather magical. Beautiful old house and outbuildings and a garden to die for. They have a grumpy cat called Marmite and there is a typically British tea room which leaves you wondering how a nation that can so skillfully squeeze 50 people into a space meant for 30 can make such a hash of Brexit.

Jane Austen was clearly part of a high performing gene pool with brothers who went on to be Admirals and wealthy landowners. It wasn’t a great time to be a woman, and her obvious talent took a while to get due recognition but she also seems to have been canny and compassionate. If she hadn’t died in early middle age she could have gone on to span the Georgian and Victorian eras, and then who knows what may have come out of her creative mind and soul? I like to think she might even have done a Jules Verne and got into Sci-Fi - you know, Austen Space, that kind of thing.

We found a pub across the road called The Greyfriars which was fab. Got chatting to the landlord, a couple of the locals and a dog that was eating a packet of pork scratchings. The beer was first class, you can tell a proper cellarman a mile off. The landlord wants to do a community production of A Midsummer NIght’s Dream in 2020, he is a self proclaimed frustrated thespian and an Arsenal supporter, which is an unusual combination.

The Dizzle spent the day laid up with a debilitating head cold. The sun came out big time in the afternoon as if to say “Hey British Summer Time! Dude!”

Good day. This is Jane Austen’s quill pen on the tiny writing desk where she did her stuff. Awesome.